That Awful Sound: Psychic Detectives - The Joliet Sisters (2 page)

“I hear it. We have to get out. Now!” Mrs.
Forstall’s already pale coloring turned almost glowing white.

“Don’t scream. We’re not going to let
anything bad happen to you.” Charmaine crossed to the woman and
shoved her down onto the sofa again. “Stay put.”

Mrs. Forstall’s mouth worked but no words
came out. Fear had disconnected her brain to her vocal chords it
seemed. Charmaine felt a rush of energy as well, but not fear.
She’d given up being scared of the supernatural. People and the
things they got up to sent more chills down her spine than any
goblin. She’d been on the receiving end enough times.

With a hand in the leather cross-body bag
slung over one shoulder, Charmaine stepped into the hallway. The
wide staircase looked stunning as usual. A louder banging sound
came from upstairs. As Charmaine put a foot on the first carpeted
stair, Jessi appeared on the landing above, hands on both hips.

“The rich bitch lied to you. There’s a body
up here, and it sure as hell ain’t natural causes.”

The Plot Gets Thick

Two hours later Detective Wayne Harrison
stood with a cigar clamped between his lips. The color of milk
chocolate and at least six feet tall, Detective Harrison’s gaze
missed little. He huffed and puffed smoke as he observed the chaos
spread out before him. Night had fallen, and the cold March evening
wind made him pulled his wool jacket closer. Police lights flashed
casting blue against the stately old home. Harrison took turns
glaring at Charmaine and listening to verbal reports from other
officers. What Charmaine assumed were two crime scene techs went in
and out of the house. After thirty minutes they returned with
plastic and paper bags. The body had not been moved. After another
thirty minutes Harrison marched over to Charmaine.

“Where’s my sister? She’s sensitive around
cops you know,” Charmaine said, pre-empting his control of what
would become a police interview.

“Yeah, that happens when you run around
killing folks,” Harrison growled back.

“She’s never been convicted or even
arrested.” Charmaine leaned against the NOPD cruiser and crossed
her ankles.

“Dead bodies and you two young ladies seem
to attract each other. Now we’ve got another one.” Harrison jerked
a thumb toward the Forstall mansion.

“Sadly violent crime is a problem in our
wonderful city, Detective. Not that I blame the police. You folks
are doing your best,” Charmaine replied mildly.

“I... You little....” Harrison pointed a
forefinger at Charmaine, but cut off his tirade. He glanced to his
left and snorted. A pudgy white man in a dark suit beckoned to the
detective. His attitude showed he expected to be obeyed.

“Detective, we need to talk.”

“Your boss gotta a lot of nerve,” Charmaine
prodded.

“Just stay right here. Keep your mouth shut
about spirits and that other bullshit.” Harrison strode off.

Harrison and the man entered into a tense
exchange. Charmaine could tell they didn’t like each other. Though
interested in that dynamic, Charmaine worried more about Jessi. Her
sister had a flat out phobia about police officers. Ignoring the
detective’s order, Charmaine went to two police cars, but Jessi
wasn’t in either of them. Then she spotted her. The double doors of
a police van were open. Jessi sat in the van with a blanket around
her. She held a plastic cup. As Charmaine cautiously approached,
Jessi winked.

“What the…?” Charmaine whispered once she
got close.

“I felt faint from the shock of finding a
dead woman, so the nice officer helped me. Then he got my
preliminary statement.” Jessi sipped from the cup. “Want some
water? I got connections.”

“Harrison is here and he’s pissed. Thinks
we’re up to our necks in this murder.” Charmaine sighed as she sat
next Jessi.

“Yeah, that’s Commander Murphy with him.
Mrs. Got Mad Money is tossing us under the bus right this minute.”
Jessi turned to stare into the van. “Hmm, interesting tools.”

“Keep your sticky fingers off. We’re in
enough deep shit as it is. And there’s no way Mrs. Forstall can
blame us for a dead body in her house.” Charmaine bit her lip.

“Power and privilege. She hired us to sniff
out the hired help stealing. We confronted her housekeeper, there
was a fight and now there’s a dead body. We have shady records.”
Jessi shrugged.

“You have a history of attacking people, not
me. I just have a history of...” Charmaine’s voice trailed off.

“You have a history of getting me out of
trouble. Who you think they gonna believe?” Jessi gave a grunt.

“Wait, the victim is a woman and her
employee? How did you find out?” Charmaine craned her neck until
she spotted Detective Harrison. He and Commander Murphy still faced
off.

“She didn’t tell me,” Jessi said. She
shrugged again when Charmaine glanced at her. “Hey, not all ghosts
hang around to chat. Some spirits take off to wherever they go once
the body stops.”

“Heaven or hell,” Charmaine said.

“There you go with the religion myths. One
day we’ll have a scientific explanation for a lot of paranormal
activity. Our bodies generate energy. Ghosts or spirits are made of
subatomic particles generated after we die.” Jessi waved a hand.
“Stop with the God and angels crap.”

“Who created those particles? Okay, look.
Let’s debate intelligent design later. So some cute police officer
gave you information?” Charmaine looked at Jessi.

“I acted like I knew more than I did, which
wasn’t hard. The woman has on a uniform, like a hotel housekeeper.
Dark blue pants and a matching button front shirt.” Jessi drained
the rest of the water from the cup and tossed it into the van.

“Please tell me you didn’t touch a dead
body,” Charmaine blurted out.

“I checked to see if the poor heffa was
still breathing. Not that it was likely since Shawntelle was
stuffed in the wall.” Jessi patted her jacket pocket. She sighed
happily as she pulled out a package of cigarettes.

Charmaine snatched them from her. “How did
you know her... oh.”

“Right. This house was built between 1849
and 1852. Any place that old has to have a little something extra
floating around. A slave named Lucas wanders the neighborhood. He
worked for one her hubby’s ancestors. Did carpentry work when his
owner let him. Says both families are a mean bunch,” Jessi
said.

“I’ll listen to hundred year old gossip
another time. So he knows how she ended up dead?” Charmaine gazed
at the house. The beauty of it started to fade with each secret
uncovered.

“He wasn’t around. Lucas was down the street
scaring the shit out of a descendant of a man who used to beat
slaves for fun,” Jessi said with a wide grin.

“No wonder you two got along. So how did she
die?” Charmaine stood and stretched. The last few hours had started
to take a toll. Her legs ached.

“Read some minds and find out for shit’s
sake. I can’t do all the work,” Jessi retorted.

“Very funny,” Charmaine retorted.

“I hacked through the wall with a heavy
silver vase. The plaster or whatever seemed mighty thin, like an
old closet covered over. I think she was shot.” Jessi started to
say more, but broke off and nodded. “Here we go.”

Charmaine turned around to see Harrison and
his boss coming their way.”Let me do the talking.”

“Gladly,” Jessi retorted. She pulled the
blanket around her as if for protection.

“Didn’t I say stay put?” Harrison drew his
shoulders in at the look his boss gave him.

“The situation should be under your control,
Harrison,” the man cracked. He gave Charmaine and Jessi an
appraising glace for a few seconds in silence. “You two are free to
go. Handle it, Harrison.”

“Yes sir,” Harrison spat.

The man lingered a second to eye the
detective before he strode off. “I’ll get with you later,” he
called without looking back.

Detective Harrison faced Charmaine and
Jessi. “You have more luck than a bucket of four leaf clovers.”

“Oh good, we’re not murder suspects,” Jessi
quipped in a dry tone. She hopped down from the back of the van and
tossed the police blanket on the floor board. “Let’s get the hell
outta here before they change their minds, Charmaine.”

“Wait a minute.” Charmaine frowned and blink
rapidly.

“Your baby sister is right. Be glad you’ve
been handed a get-out-of-jail-free,” Harrison said.

“But...” Charmaine pointed at the house.

“Go away,” Harrison barked loud and both
women jumped. Then he lowered his voice. “You’ve got something on
this uptown chick with big political connections. I’m going to find
out what you’re up to, Ms. Joliet. Until then, don’t come unless I
send for you.”

“I’m not up to anything. She called us.”
Charmaine stopped when Harrison’s eyes turned to slits.

“You’re absolutely right, detective. We
should get out of your way so you can do your job. Come on
Charmaine.” Jessi grabbed Charmaine’s arm. After a few insistent
tugs, she got them both moving.

“Something funny is going on.” Charmaine
matched Jessi’s steps, but she kept looking back at Detective
Harrison.

Jessi yanked her hard until they reached
Charmaine’s blue Ford Focus. “What was your first clue? A rich
woman full of secrets and a spooky house, or the dead body in the
wall?”

“Leaving might be a good idea for now,”
Charmaine muttered.

The Man with a Plan

One night later Charmaine looked into the
barrel of the automatic pistol pointed at her. The round hole where
a bullet might come out any second seemed huge. The man holding it
blurred into a scary background figure in the dark. So maybe it
wasn’t a coincidence that the light under her carport had gone
out.

He’d come up behind Charmaine before she
could get inside the door leading to her kitchen. He ordered her to
shut up and go inside fast. His deep voice had a dreamy lover boy
quality. Except he wasn’t trying to charm anyone, certainly not
Charmaine. Who? Why? Wait, not a priority at the moment.

“And don’t try sayin’ you ain’t by
yourself,” her unwelcome visitor rumbled. “Get away from the door.
I said move!”

“Look, I have more bills than money. But I
got eighty dollars stashed in that big cookie jar. Grocery money
for my family. I’m just tryin’ to make it like everybody else,”
Charmaine said, putting a tremble in her voice.

“Humph. You ain’t got no kids, so don’t try
the single mother angle. We not goin’ to the kitchen so you can get
your hands on a knife or somethin’. Move down that hall. We’re
goin’ to the living room. No, wait. We goin’ in your office Miss
social worker.” The man waved the gun at her to walk.

Charmaine thought fast as they walked
through the door and down the hallway. He had done his homework on
her. “You can tell I don’t have much worth stealing by looking
around. I have two televisions, an old computer and not much
else.”

“Yeah. I oughta jack your raggedy shit as
payment for the trouble you caused me. But I don’t want your
piddly-assed stuff. Put the purse down on this table and go over
there.”

“Okay, sure.” Charmaine kept her back to him
as she placed her purse down and walked across the room.

“Turn around,” the man ordered.

“I haven’t seen your face or even what
you’re wearing, so I can’t describe you to...”

“Turn around,” the said with more edge to
his tone.

With a deep sigh, Charmaine faced him. The
fact that he didn’t care if she saw his face was seriously bad
news. He had no intention of leaving her alive to tell the tale.
“You don’t want to rob me, so now what?”

The man was the color of honey. His dark
tight curls were cut close. He glanced around the room for a few
seconds. Then he focused on Charmaine gain. He seemed quite
comfortable holding a gun on another human being. “I’m Darrius
James, the one you and that rich woman set up for Shawntelle’s
murder. Yeah, I see the light bulb just went on over your
head.”

“We didn’t, I mean I didn’t set you up for
murder. You have a history of getting into fights with Mrs.
Forstall’s housekeeper. You came to the house while Shawntelle was
at work and threatened her. It’s... it’s in the police files. Once
they identified her—”

“I went to her job twice without calling,
and Shawntelle threatened me for showing up,” Darrius broke in.

“Uh, y’all got into a fist fight at a
nightclub last year. The police report says you had a knife.”

“I ain’t stupid enough to kill her and leave
the body at that bitch’s house,” Darrius growled. “If I took
somebody out wouldn’t be nothin’ left for them CSI types to
find.”

“Okay, just explain to the cops,” Charmaine
said weakly. She flinched when Darrius let out a growly laugh empty
of amusement.

“Sure. Big black guy with a record goes to
the cops and explains they got it all wrong. He didn’t kill his
girlfriend. That oughta work real good.” Darrius glanced at his
watch. “I got a much better idea.”

Charmaine glanced at the digital clock on
her desk. The glowing red numbers told her it was almost ten
o’clock. “Um, what would that be?”

“Shawntelle told me more than once her boss
is crazy. All kinds of nasty secrets in that family,” Darrius
said.

“Like?”

“Did Miz Society Lady tell you we had us a
three way one time?” Darrius grinned at Charmaine’s gaping mouth.
“Yeah, she swung both ways. Me, her and Shawntelle had us a party
one weekend. Her husband and kids went to their beach house in
Florida. Loretta pretended she was sick and stayed home. Bet when
she was gabbing to the police she didn’t tell ‘em that story.”

“I’m fairly sure she left it out,” Charmaine
murmured. “So Mrs. Forstall invited you inside at least once.”